Love Affairs: George & George

By Zoe Archer

George Eliot's personal life proved to be just as fascinating as her novels. Born Mary Ann (sometimes written as Marian or Mary Anne) Evans in 1819, Evans largely educated herself in liberal arts, theology and foreign languages. She joined a collection of unconventional thinkers that included Charles Bray and Charles Hennell, and their humanist principles helped shape her own ideals and spiritual convictions. In January 1842, Evans refused to accompany her father to his evangelical Protestant services, and their religious differences remained a source of conflict that lasted until his death.

Evans moved to London in the early 1850s and became the assistant editor of the Westminster Review. She had an affair with the owner of the Review, John Chapman, but not only was Chapman married, he had another mistress. In 1851, she met critic and novelist George Henry Lewes. Lewes was a bohemian in an open marriage. His wife, Agnes Jervis, had three children by Lewes, and several children by other men. Within a year of meeting Lewes, he and Evans began a relationship that became the basis of much controversy.

By the end of 1852, Evans and Lewes began living together. In every way but legally, Evans and Lewes considered themselves married. Friends and relatives disparaged the couple and the effect their relationship had on their professional careers. Evans called herself Mrs. Marian Evans Lewes. She and Lewes travelled many times to the Continent a number of times and shared several homes. Lewes supported Evans' literary ambitions and encouraged her to write fiction. Their relationship caused considerable public scandal, especially considering that the relationship was conducted openly. She persisted in her writing endeavors. She began to use the pseudonym George Eliot both as a means of eluding criticism of her private life as well as to separate her fiction from other, more domestic genre work written by female authors. Many admirers of her novel Adam Bede were shocked when it was revealed that novelist George Eliot was, in fact, the scandalous Mrs. Evans Lewes. It was years before she and Lewes were accepted in polite society, despite the popularity and acclaim her work received.

Evans and Lewes remained together until his death in 1878. In 1880, she legally married a man twenty years her junior. She and John Walter Cross were reportedly very happy together, but their time as a married couple was not long. Evans died seven months into their marriage. Her wish to be buried in Westminster Abbey was denied, due largely to her spiritual beliefs and her unconventional relationship with Lewes. She was buried beside Lewes in Highgate Cemetery, but in 1980, a commemorative stone was placed in Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, solidifying her reputation as one of the most accomplished, influential and remarkable authors in the English Language.

Love Affairs: Doug & Mary

By Delia DeLeest

Before there was Brad and Angelina, or Brad and Jen, or Angelina and Billy Bob or any other Hollywood couple known only by their first names, there was Doug and Mary, the very first king and queen of Hollywood. American royalty.

Mary Pickford's star rose in 1913 and she soon became the most popular actress in the world, she stayed at that pinnacle until 1930. She wasn't just popular, she was the epitome of stardom for seventeen years. There has never been an actress able to duplicate her accomplishment and in today's world where actors are old news after five years, there probably never will be. She was known as America's Sweetheart and made millions playing "the girl with the golden curls".

Douglas Fairbanks was the action hero of his day. If there was a swashbuckling pirate or a mythical hero to be played, Fairbanks was there. He was the man all the ladies loved and all the men wanted to be. When Doug and Mary met in 1916, the sparks flew. Because they each had other spouses at the time, they didn't become free to marry each other until 1920, about two weeks after Mary's divorce became final.

They set up housekeeping in a Hollywood mansion they called Pickfair and it soon became the place to go when dignitaries visited America. An invitation to Pickfair was your ticket into the world of Hollywood's, and America's, elite.

Shortly before their marriage, Doug and Mary also went into business together. Along with fellow actor, Charlie Chaplin and prominent director, D.W. Griffith, they formed United Artists motion picture studio. This not only enabled these four luminaries to choose which pictures they wanted to make, but gave them the means to write, produce and direct in addition to acting.

United Artists became very successful and Doug and Mary became even richer and more powerful than they'd been before. What makes Doug and Mary so unusual in their world of money and success was that they had a deep love for each other, one that could not be faked for the benefit of their fans and the movie cameras. What Doug and Mary had was real.

Anyone who's seen Singing in the Rain knows of the upset talking pictures created in silent era Hollywood. Though they were both wonderful, competent actors, talkies threw Doug and Mary both off their game and neither ever recovered.

With a lot of energy and no way to expend it now that his movie making was greatly reduced, Douglas took to world travel, something Mary despised. She was content to spend her time quietly at Pickfair, ruling her kingdom from behind the high walls of her castle. In 1930, Doug met Lady Sylvia Ashley and began an affair that, three years later, resulted in his and Mary's divorce. Hollywood's golden couple was done.

Doug went on to marry Sylvia and a year later, Mary married band leader Buddy Rogers. In 1939, Doug died in his sleep of a heart attack. Though Mary died many years later (1979) after being married to Rogers for 40 years, it was believed that they both still loved each other till the end, always regretting their inability to reconcile.

Of course, this could also just be wishful thinking on behalf of their fans and of those who want to believe in Hollywood happily-ever-afters, I know that's where my sentiments lie.

Love Affairs: Henry & June

By Karen Mercury

Henry Miller, "Just a Brooklyn Boy," was born in 1891 "under a lucky star." He followed his strict German tailor father's directives to get a conventional job, and found work as a personnel director in charge of messengers at the "Cosmodemonic Telegraph Company"-- a pseudonym for Western Union. But Henry was "always merry and bright," anything but conventional , and loved to party with his friends, to womanize, and to write semi-autobiographical tales. One day when the Vice President was bawling him out for his absenteeism, the manager suggested that Henry write an Horatio Alger book about the messengers.

I thought to myself 'you poor old futzer, you, just wait until I get it off my chest, I'll give you an Horatio Alger book...' I saw the army of men, women and children that had passed through my hands, saw them weeping, begging, beseeching, imploring, cursing, spitting...I saw the tracks they had left on the highways, lying on the floor of freight trains, the parents in rags, the coal box empty, the sink running over, the walls sweating...I will give you Horatio Alger as he looks the day after the Apocalypse, when all the stink has cleared away.

He married a woman Beatrice, a very cold-hearted and disapproving fish--they even had a child Miller always referred to as "the child"--who saw his "scribbling" as a waste of time, which gave Henry even more reason to stay out late at vaudeville shows and dance halls, where taxi girls would dance with one for a small fee.

In 1923, Henry met June (referred to in his novels as Mona), a taxi dancer at the Orpheum Dance Palace in Times Square. She was a gorgeous, flamboyant, and unstable woman who had sex with Henry in the back seat of the cab on the first night they met, and he was instantly smitten, calling her "June, Julia, Henriette, and She" (after one of his favorite Rider Haggard novels).

Henry was never sure which of June's stories to believe, whether she was born to a Romanian gypsy in Sherwood Forest, how many of her rich lovers truly existed, but when she whispered, "You must be a great writer--for me!" the flattery sent him into a dizzy whirl. Whatever she is, I love her, and for the moment she is mine, he thought. Henry married her the next year after unceremoniously dumping Beatrice. Claiming to be variously an actress, artist, and also a bisexual, June invited her friend Jean Kronski to move in with them, although all Jean seemed to do all day was craft puppets that were apparently not very attractive or marketable, dragging along "Count Bruga" wherever they went.

Having walked out the door of the Cosmodemonic Telegraph Company without a word, now Henry attempted to make a living solely as a writer, selling prose poems from door to door. They struggled to exist in cold water flats, June remaining as a taxi girl and entertaining strange men to make ends meet, "gold-digging with a vengeance." Henry thought Paris might be the place for them, and so the trio departed with ten dollars in their pockets. "I have no money, no resources, no hopes," Henry wrote. "I am the happiest man alive."

Everyone, apparently, was in love with June. Jealousies between Henry, June, Jean and their many "admirers" led to the womens' return to New York--June's despicable treatment of men had led at least two of her lovers to suicide. Henry's gregarious, friendly, and relaxed personality led to some important Parisian associations such as Blaise Cendrars, Alfred Perles, Man Ray, Lawrence Durrell, and, most importantly, in 1931, Anaïs Nin. Henry began a fling with Anaïs, but when June returned to Paris, Anaïs also fell under her inexplicable spell. Anaïs wrote:

A startlingly white face, burning eyes. June Mansfield, Henry's wife. As she came towards me from the darkness of my garden into the light of the doorway I saw for the first time the most beautiful woman on earth...As I sat in front of her I felt that I would do anything she asked of me. Henry faded. She was color, brilliance, strangeness.

By the end of the evening I was like a man, terribly in love with her face and body, which promised so much, and I hated the self created in her by others. Others feel because of her; and because of her, others write poetry; because of her, others hate; others, like Henry, love her in spite of themselves.

Henry and June divorced by proxy in Mexico in 1934.

His first novel, Tropic of Cancer, was not published until 1934 in Paris, instantly famous and, of course, banned in all English-speaking countries. It was his Horatio Alger story, "the blood-soaked testament revealing the ravages of my struggles in the womb of death." When it finally was released in the US in 1961 it caused a sensation, leading to obscenity trials that debated pornography. I recall my mother had all of his 60s books on her shelf and I'd sneak looks at the "sex parts." I soon realized the writing was pretty darned interesting, and wound up reading them all of the way through.

Henry lived in Big Sur, dealing with the hordes of fans showing up at his door, and hanging out with admirers such as Jack Kerouac, Emil White, and Jean Varda. He saw June only once more in 1961, although he sent her money her entire life. He was shocked at her deteriorated appearance, as she'd spent many years in boarding houses and sanitariums, receiving electric shock treatments, and having broken some bones after falling off one such table. Henry died at the age of 89, after divorcing his fifth and final wife, Hoki, a Japanese woman 47 years his junior, smoking cigarettes and living it up until the end.

Love Affairs: Katherine Swynford & John of Gaunt

By Blythe Gifford

Any of you who have seen me post here, or elsewhere on the web, will not be surprised at my choice of romantic couples. Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt, son of King Edward III of England, are hands down, my favorite lovers of all time.

Immortalized in Anya Seton's KATHERINE, their story is an amazing true tale of long time lovers who came to their happy ending late in life.

John, Duke of Lancaster, was, as Alison Weir writes, "the greatest English nobleman of his time"--chivalrous, rich, politically astute, a great warrior, tall, lean, and handsome. What's more, it's reported that 300 years later, a codpiece reportedly made for him was on display in the Tower of London and "better worth a lewd lady's admiration than any piece of antiquity in the Tower." (Alas, Wier goes on to expose this as the 18th century equivalent of an urban legend.)

Katherine Swynford, on the other hand, was daughter of a knight (Paon de Roet) and would have sunk into obscurity had it not been for the patronage of Edward's queen, Phillipa. She obtained this because her father was from the queen's home country of Hainault and who served her in England for many years.

We have little official evidence of Katherine. No letters and few documents remain, not even her will. What does emerge from the record, however, is almost universally flattering. She was beautiful, educated, pious, and comfortable at the highest levels of court.

In addition, she served as mother or surrogate mother to a blended family of more than ten children. They included three to four of her own (by her first husband), three to four of John's children (by his first and second wives), as well as the four they had together. And she seems to have successfully created an atmosphere that allowed these pseudo-siblings to become fast friends for life.

Any modern day mother must stand in awe of her for this accomplishment alone.

As a side note, Katherine's sister was married to Geoffrey Chaucer, the pre-eminent writer of the 14th century. This has sparked a game of "find Katherine" among some scholars, for he must have known his sister in law well. The picture here, excerpted from the frontpiece of Chaucer's TROILUS, has been identified as Katherine, probably late in life, after her marriage to the Duke. If accurate, she seems to have had golden hair, a slim figure, and a fashionably high forehead, even at that age.

At the time the two began their affair, Katherine had already served as governess to John's children with his first, and much beloved wife, Blanche. (Blanche was a paragon herself. Rich, beautiful, educated, it seems she and John also had a love match.)

Katherine, 22, was a widow with at least three children. John, a widower ten years older than she, had just married Constance of Spain, a political marriage and never a truly happy one.

Initially, the lovers were discreet. John may not have loved his new wife, but she was the key to his goal of assuming the throne of Castile. During their affair, Katherine bore him four children, the Beauforts (see my previous post), but largely stayed away from court (and the attention of the chroniclers) for many years.

Among the touching evidence that has come down to us from John's household records are regular gifts to "our very dear and well-beloved Dame Katherine de Swynford." Among these are oak trees "suitable for building." This sounds less than romantic to modern ears, but they were cut from forests he owned and used for improvements to her home, Kettlethorpe, where their children were raised.

Of course, all was not bliss. They were regularly apart as John was at court or fighting on the continent. Yet finally, around 1377 or 1378, he seems to have relinquished some of the pretense and Katherine was more and more seen at his side. This did not go unnoticed, and Katherine is called his "unspeakable concubine" by the chroniclers. But despite this, they also note, an unusual and telling entry, that she loved the Duke and their children. (This is a far cry from their description of his father's mistress, Alice Perrers.)

John's father had now died, and John was uncle to the new king, Richard II. It was a time of unrest, and when the peasants revolted in 1381, John's London palace, the Savoy, was looted and then burned to the ground. Katherine, knowing her life and her family's were in danger, went into hiding, probably at one of John's northern castles.

Although the revolt finally subsided, it seems to have shaken John. Not only was his property destroyed, his members of his household had been murdered. A pious man, he concluded that God was punishing him for his liaison with Katherine. (Political realities may also have been a consideration, for he had become a highly unpopular man.)

He publicly broke off the nine year old affair, but also issued a "quit claim" that made it clear that any gifts and property he had given Katherine would remain hers. This document was issued on Valentine's Day.

And so, the lovers parted.

Despite this, John continued to provide patronage to their children and even to Chaucer's son, Katherine's nephew. Meanwhile, the political times were difficult. New favorites came and went and King Richard alternately depended on his uncle and turned on him.

But in 1394, Constance died. John, contrary to all advice and to the horror of several of the highest born ladies of the court, petitioned the Pope for dispensation to marry Katherine and to legitimize their children.

So at 46 and 56, they became husband and wife and, Katherine informed the Pope, they celebrated their wedding with "carnal copulation."

Until King Richard's marriage to his second wife, Katherine, Duchess of Lancaster, was the highest ranking woman in England. She and John had less than five years together before John's death and he was not well for most of that time. (John may not have been quite as faithful as his reputation. There's some suggestion that his illness was venereal disease.)

She survived five years after his death and lived to see John's son, Henry IV, refer to her, his stepmother, as "the King's Mother." A sketch of her tomb in Lincoln Cathedral is at left.

Her Cinderella story is virtually unduplicated in medieval history. It is a testament to a love that endured years, miles, marriages, guilt, and separation to find its own happy ending.

Source: Much of this material is drawn from Mistress of the Monarchy by Alison Weir, and The History of a Medieval Mistress by Jeanne Lucraft. Those who read my INNOCENCE UNVEILED may recognize that I used the birth of "John of Ghent," subsequently John of Gaunt, as a key incident in the book.

Love Affairs: Hera & Zeus

By Jacquie Rogers

The gods and goddesses on Mt. Olympus have provided us with entertainment for thousands of years. One of the more interesting couples were Hera and Zeus, the children of Rhea and Cronus.

Hera and Zeus may not have the most loving romance of all time, but they certainly were an interesting couple. Zeus drew the long straw so he had the honor of being the ruler of heaven and earth. Hera was the goddess of childbirth and marriage. She was the supreme goddess on Mt. Olympus.

Theirs was an arranged marriage, one which Hera managed to avoid for three centuries. She wanted nothing to do with a god who was a womanizer, even if he was her own brother. Worse, he swallowed his first wife, Metis, a Titaness. That's just never a positive foundation for a loving marriage.

Finally Hera relented--only after Zeus tricked her by shifting into a cute little bird. Once she had him nestled in her bosom, he shifted back to his man form and made mad, passionate love to her. Once again he proposed, and this time she agreed. A lavish wedding followed, and almost immediately Zeus went back to his philandering ways.

Her reservations about his character were well proved. Zeus fathered many offspring, three by Hera: Ares, Hephaestus, and Hebe. Affairs with other women produced the twins Artemis and Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes, Athena, and Persephone. Also of note are Perseus, Herakles, The Muses, Minos, and Helen, among many dozens of others. So Zeus as a busy guy, and Hera wasn't all that thrilled with the situation. A bit jealous, you might say.

She banished Leto, pregnant with Zeus' twins, Apollo and Artemis, to Delos and then prevented the Goddess of Childbirth from attending her, preventing the birth. Other goddesses felt sorry for Leto and bribed Hera with a golden necklace. She finally relented and allowed Leto to give birth.

Io didn't fare very well, either. When Hera nearly caught Zeus in flagrante delicto with Io, Zeus turned his lover into a white heifer. Hera wasn't a bit fooled, and to make a long story short, sent gadflies to pester Io, who ran and ran until she reached Egypt, where she became Isis.

I've made a cursory scan of the events but most stories, as bawdy or salacious as they may seem, all have a lesson to teach, or explain nature in some way. Very few are for entertainment value only, although a more fascinating cast of characters would be hard to find.

And whether Hera and Zeus every found a Happily Ever After, I don't know. But what a wild ride!

Sources:
Marriages of the Gods, a storybook by Erika Mitchell-DeLuca
The Loves of Zeus
Theoi Greek Mythology
Wikipedia: Hera
Wikipedia: Zeus

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Love Affairs: Jack Rackham & Anne Bonny

By Anna C. Bowling

These real life pirates of the Caribbean shared a love affair that ignited like a flash of gunpowder during the waning days of piracy's golden age. Jack Rackham, dubbed Calico Jack by his peers, due to his brightly colored wardrobe, had already enjoyed a piratical career that included taking over a ship previously captained by James Vane when the pirates found themselves pitted against a warship. Jack's crewmates elected him captain in Vane's stead, and Jack led several successful raids on merchant ships before deciding he wanted something else out of life.

His ship put into New Providence Harbor in the Bahamas, and Jack may well have accepted the open pardon offered by Governor Woodes Rogers for all those who would quit their nefarious ways and live as decent men. It was one far from decent woman, Anne Bonny, a quick-tempered Irishwoman from South Carolina, who turned his head and set his life on a far different course when the pair met at one of the many taverns in the port town.

The attraction between the two was intense and instantaneous, finding themselves matched well in temperament, passion and ambition for adventure. There was only one problem: Anne was already married, and even worse, her husband, James Bonny, was an informant for Governor Rogers. Having his wife carrying on with one of the very pirates he hoped to eliminate did not sit well.

James charged his wife with adultery, and her conviction warranted flogging and a charge to return to James. Jack offered to buy Anne from James in a marriage by purchase, but Anne's pride nipped that in the bud. She refused to be bought and sold like livestock and the pair escaped New Providence to take to the open sea.

Anne learned the art of piracy well under Jack's tutelage, to the extent that most historical mentions of Jack's name are as an associate of Anne's, and that of another piratess in male guise, Mary Read, rather than for his own exploits. Anne and Jack's affair proved fruitful, and they put into port in Cuba for Anne to deliver their first child, whose fate remains unknown.

Jack and Anne resumed their seafaring lifestyle, with pirate hunters hot on their heels. In 1720, Captain Jonathan Barnet captured their ship while the male crewmembers were too inebriated to offer resistance. Only Anne and Mary fought to the end, and the entire crew stood trial in Jamaica, facing a death sentence. Anne, pregnant with her and Jack's second child, plead her belly, and had her execution postponed until she could carry the child to term. (A ruling which proved moot, as Anne escaped well before said time.) Jack, however, had no recourse, and his sentence was passed.

The day of his execution, Jack had but one final wish--to see his beloved Anne one last time. The wish was granted, but historical accounts indicate that Anne turned away from her lover after uttering the fateful words, "If you had fought like a man, you would not be hanged like a dog."

Love Affairs: Nicholas II & Alexandra

By Isabel Roman

Russian romance is often tragic, it's also often dramatic. The Russians do everything to excess. The old saying "live hard, play hard" seems to be triple for the Russians. Their corruption is audacious, their love affairs are no less so.

However, Nicholas and Alexandra weren't ordinary Russians. Their love was more subdued, but quiet and affectionate. When Nicholas Romanov saw Alix von Hessen und bei Rhein (Alexandra Feodorovna Romanova), it was love at first sight. Nicholas was never supposed to be Tsar, but upon his brother's death, and his ascension to the throne, he married Alexandra. The Russian people believed that a bad omen, marrying so soon after a death.

Oh, how right they were.

But until 1917, they were content in their relationship, passionate to a degree. Even though the Russian people rejected the shy Alix, Nicholas cared little for what they thought or wanted. When they were apart, he and Alix wrote many love letters, always affectionate, always missing the other.

As tsar, Nicholas could have had anyone, but he always chose his wife.

Nicholas' love for Alexandra transcended the malicious gossip of the court. When Alix's relationship with Grigori Rasputin was revealed, when rumors spread as to the intimate nature of the relationship, Nicholas stood by his wife. I don't believe she did have an affair with Rasputin, she was far too in love with her husband and used Rasputin to help her son, the heir to the Russian Empire.

When they died, they did it as they lived-tragically, dramatically, and surrounded by family.

Love Affairs: Katherine de Valois & Owen Tudor

By Margaret Mallory

I love the exchange at the end of Shakespeare's Henry V between the English king and Katherine de Valois, the French princess he is about to wed. To be truthful, it is the movie I remember, in which the charming Emma Thomson, who plays the French princess, is enthralled with King Henry, played by her then-husband, Kenneth Branagh. Watching the pair exchange witty remarks and a kiss, I assumed King Henry became the love of Katherine's life.

But he did not.

Wedding of Henry V and Katherine de Valois
At the time of their marriage, King Henry's army was rolling across Normandy and France with great success. He claimed the throne of France and engineered the marriage as a more peaceful way to achieve his ends. By all accounts, however, the king was quite taken with his lovely princess.

Very likely, the princess was in awe of the mesmerizing, conquering hero, who was fifteen years her senior. (And really, who doesn't like Kenneth Branagh?)

Kenneth Branagh as Henry V
King Henry devoted himself 24/7 to ruling one kingdom and conquering another. Perhaps that made him a less-than-attentive husband. In any case, he died only two years after their marriage, when Katherine was not yet twenty-one. Doubtless the princess--now queen--held her husband in great esteem and affection.

But the man who won Katherine body and soul, the man for whom she risked everything, was...her Clerk of the Wardrobe.

Owen Tudor was the son of a Welsh rebel. He had served as one of King Henry's "squires of the body," before joining the widowed queen's household. The story is that Owen came to the queen's "attention" when she spied him bathing naked.

Thus began the mad love affair between the widow of the revered King Henry and her Clerk of the Wardrobe. I say mad, because the two risked a charge of treason.

The men ruling England in the name of Katherine's son expected the queen to be content to sleep with her memories of the great Henry. They realized their error when she reportedly had a flirtation with one of the Beauforts. (Remember the Beauforts? And the Lancasters?) Katherine's brother-in-law, the Duke of Gloucester, was so concerned that a step-father could wield too much influence--which is to say, more influence than Gloucester--over the young king that he persuaded Parliament to prohibit Katherine from marrying without permission. And permission would not be granted.

Despite the risks, the queen and Owen began their affair, most likely at Windsor Castle. Being together was a dangerous decision. The queen was a foreigner with few friends. Many suspected her of secretly supporting her brother's claim to the French crown over her son's.

Queen Katherine
I wish I could find a picture of Owen, because he must have been a handsome devil. Likely he wasn't wealthy enough to have a portrait painted before he became the queen's lover. Afterward, the couple did their best to keep a low profile.

It is generally believed that the couple married in secret, and they did have four or five children. They lived in the country, away from the limelight, for several years with their growing family. It's not clear whether the men in power did not know the two were living as man and wife or whether they simply chose to ignore it.

Queen Katherine and Owen Tudor's love story is a bittersweet one. Their quiet life came to an end in 1436 when Owen was imprisoned on a charge of treason, probably at the instigation of Gloucester. Upon Owen's arrest, the queen "retired" to Bermodsey Abbey, where she died after giving birth to their fourth or fifth child.

After her death, the fifteen-year-old king ordered Owen released and elevated his half-brothers, Edmund and Jasper Tudor, to earls. Not bad, for the grandsons of a Welsh rebel.

When Edmund Tudor was twenty-four, the king facilitated his marriage to Margaret Beaufort (yes, another Beaufort), a wealthy heiress. Margaret was twelve at the time. Edmund died before Margaret gave birth, at age thirteen, to their son Henry. It was this child, Owen and Katherine's grandson, who would later usurp the throne and begin the Tudor dynasty.

Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII
Henry VII
Katherine de Valois and Owen Tudor are secondary characters in my third novel, KNIGHT OF PASSION (June 2010).

** Photos courtesy Wikipedia Commons or Photobucket.

Love Affairs: FDR & Lucy Mercer

By Carrie Lofty

"The cruelty, the impolitic cruelty...of dividing, or attempting to divide, two young people long attached to each other, is terrible."

Colonel Brandon in SENSE & SENSIBILITY

Despite objections by his mother, Franklin Delano Roosevelt united the two opposing Roosevelt clans in 1905 by marrying his distant relation, Eleanor Roosevelt. Eleanor in turn bore six children over the subsequent ten years, with one dying at seven months. A shy woman, Eleanor contented herself with raising the children, while FDR was handsome, socially active, and politically ambitious.

He began an affair with Eleanor's secretary, Lucy Mercer, in 1914. Lucy was the product of two prominent Maryland and Virginia families, although her parents had fallen on hard times. Although he would go on to have many other private affairs throughout his marriage, FDR maintained a special closeness with Lucy.

Eleanor found letters from Lucy in his luggage when, sick with the 1918 flu, he returned home from WWI. Historians differ as to whether Eleanor then offered the chance to divorce and be with the woman he loved, or if she actually threatened divorce. No matter; Lucy refused to marry a divorced man with five children because she was devout Catholic. (Apparently her level of devotion did not preclude having a lifelong affair with that same man.) His mother also weighed in, insisting that his inheritance would be forfeit. FDR vowed never to see Lucy again.

With the possibility of divorce behind them, FDR and Eleanor reconciled after a fashion. She had never enjoyed sex--and many of her biographers have since speculated as to whether she was a lesbian--but sexual relations between the two never resumed. Eleanor soon established a separate household, and although she officially lived at the White House upon his election, she never stayed there for long. She had been a socially awkward girl, but the Depression and the war gave her myriad social causes. Her husband's power and their shared political goals became the bedrock of what remained of their marriage.

In the meantime, Lucy married a New York socialite named Winthrop Rutherford in 1920 and eventually bore one child. Somewhere during the years that followed, FDR broke his promise. He continued to correspond with Lucy throughout his trying presidency and began to see her again. He arranged for her to have a special, secret place from which to view his 1933 inauguration. The Secret Service even referred to her as "Mrs. Johnson," which indicates the level of intimacy she maintained within the White House. The split between him and Eleanor was so profound by this point that, in 1942, when he asked her to return to him in light of his failing health, she refused.

FDR's daughter Anna had arranged for him to meet Lucy at his retreat home in Georgia in April, 1945, where he suffered his fatal cerebral hemorrhage. As the Secret Service ineffectually rushed to the president's aid, Lucy retreated to another cottage on the same property to hide. She eventually died in 1947 of leukemia at the age of 57.

Love Affairs: Wyatt Earp & Josie Marcus

By Lorelie Brown

Wyatt Earp is most known for his role in the OK Corral shoot out in Tombstone, Arizona. As one of the largest and yet quickest gunfights in Old West history, it's epic. But when my family and I visited Tombstone a couple weeks ago, I was reminded of one of the minor players in the drama--Josephine Sarah Marcus, called Sadie by her contemporaries and the woman who would be Earp's third wife. They were together until Wyatt died.

In 1881, Josie Marcus was in Tombstone because of an on-again, off-again relationship with Johnny Behan, a rival of Wyatt's. An attractive woman, it's known for sure that she worked as an actress and sometimes speculated that she was a prostitute as well. (Wyatt Earp wasn't exactly the white-hat that later movies have portrayed him as, either.)

Despite Josie signing documents in Tombstone with the name Josephine Behan, she is supposed to have begun a torrid affair with Wyatt. Um, let's just ignore the fact that Wyatt's second wife, Mattie Blaylock was still living in Tombstone as well. Details are a little murky, having been subsumed under the bigger drama of the OK Corral gunfight, but Josie and Mattie supposedly had at least two fights in the streets of Tombstone over the affair.

Nevertheless, Wyatt and Josie left Tombstone separately. Wyatt had a mess to sop up and a Vendetta Ride to make, hunting the men who killed his brother. Josie had a career in a second rate actors troupe to continue.

But they met up again in 1883, in San Francisco, and were supposedly inseparable ever after. No one has ever found a marriage certificate for Wyatt and Josie, but they presented themselves as husband and wife. In the Old West, that was sufficient for a common-law marriage.

Together, Josie and Wyatt continued to travel the Old West. Minus a short involvement in the Dodge City War, Wyatt did just about every job but lawman. They owned a racehorse and did the racing circuit in San Diego. They traveled to the Nome, Alaska gold rush and ran a gambling operation. In Nevada, they owned a saloon.

The couple spent a good portion of their latter years in Hollywood--gambling and also advising at the sets of Westerns. John Wayne is said to have based his iconic depictions of gunslingers on his conversations with Earp. They both wrote biographies with assistance. A cropped version of the following picture was on the cover of a re-issue of Josie's biography, but has since been proven unlikely to be an actual picture of Josie. (Why yes, I am including it just for the salacious aspect.)

They were sometimes flush and often on the move, but throughout it all, Josie and Wyatt were together for 46 years. A later biographer of Wyatt called them a "contentious" couple, but I prefer to think they were crotchety. After all, both had shown a distinctive propensity for ditching partners they weren't happy with. Why stick together for more than 40 years if they didn't love each other?